Reunited
by Era Yachi
Summary: Well, er, it's an old fic. Y'know, one of those ones where a bunch of the character's sons and daughters meet up after 30 years and stuff happens.
1. The Longing

I do not own Final Fantasy IX, though I'm pretty sure we all wish we did. (unless you got some horrible discapability of coping with a mound of stress, eheheh)  
  
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"Reunited"  
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By: Laura M. Ulian  
  
Dedicated to: Um.....I don't know! *thinks* Well, Ornery-Chan and Blood Sinned, I guess. (they review almost all of my fics! *grin*)   
  
(By the way, if anyone takes offense to my dedications, please don't. I'm not favoring anyone over anyone, and I don't wanna get flamed for it....I just know that it's cool to have your name in someone else's fanfic, lol. Plus, it doesn't mean that Blood Sinned and Ornery-Chan are the ONLY ones who review my fanficcys consistantly. There's Never-A-Final-Fantasy and the Sly Eagle, and EVERYONE else, too! In time, I'll have enough dedications to go around fer everyone! *falls over* ehehehe....)  
  
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***It is sadly, 30 years after the end of the game. Yes, this means that Zidane and Dagger are actually 46 years old! Not only that, but Steiner is Over sixty! Ahhhh! Anyway, this fic, strangely is about all of the characters, not just Amarant as you'd expect, right? Actually, it's not quite the characters themselves....it's about Rey, the prince of Alexandria, and the children of every other character. Freya's son or daughter, Eiko's son or daughter, Vivi's sons, Quina's son or daughter (uh, both?) and yes, even AMARANT's son or daughter. Er, son, to be exact. (Amarant? With a daughter? Puh-lease! ;) and Steiner's son, of course, Gart. Well, I hope you enjoy! Please R&R!!!****  
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"Mother, I can't take it any longer."  
  
Queen Garnet Til Alexandros looked on with pleading eyes at the young man in which she knew was her son, beneath the layers of selfishness and perfection. Underneath his mask, he was tender-hearted, easily broken, as she knew the prince's father had been before him. Reynarld Van Alexandros, the VIII took after his grandfather's name, and his grandfather before him. Rey was distracted, torn between obeying his parents wishes, and freeing himself from what he called 'torture'.  
  
"Reynarld...." the queen whispered softly, and sympathetically. "I understand how you feel, and your father felt the same way, under the pressure of those countless eyes. But you are the crown prince, and you will rule Alexandria after Zidane....Please, just go back for his sake."  
  
"But I can't!" the prince insisted, gesturing helplessly towards the open doorway leading into the hall. Down that hall waited a hundred expectant faces, hoping to get a glimpse of the royal son of Zidane Arc Tribal and their queen, Garnet. Everything had flown smoothly until Eiko accidently spoke his name aloud. At that moment, Rey had felt terrified he would have been torn apart by the very hands of his many suitors. They never even looked at him, simply jumped at the very chance to touch him, perhaps steal an item of clothing, or acquire a lock of hair -- forcefully. It drove him literally mad.  
  
"You are of age," Dagger pointed out, her adult, matured face already slightly creased from her years on the throne. Forty-six years old, and still ruling with a healthy reign. The queen did not want to give that up, until she was positive her only twenty-year-old son was ready to take over. Rey looked almost disgusted at her words, and turned away.  
  
"So now I must be a certain age to be ripped to shreds?" he inquired, narrowing his eyes. "I don't want to be plucked of my very clothing, mother. I don't want a bride yet, and certainly not an older noble woman after my money and looks. I want....."  
  
Dagger peered expectantly at her son, urging him silently to continue. But Rey sighed, and shook his head, "I don't know what I really want. I want a friend. I want a girlfriend, mother, that loves me."  
  
"You have friends," said Dagger, hunting for some source of cheer to pour into her voice. "And your father and I love you. You just need more time before you can find the right one to share the throne with...."  
  
"It's not just about the throne!" Rey cried, for what seemed to him for the millionth time. "Mother, you love Zidane -- my father. You knew him since you were four years under my age....I want a true friend. I don't want some cotton-stuffed, pig-snouted child hanging around my bedroom door come day come night. And you won't ever let me leave the castle. Not since I was seventeen."  
  
"For your safety, Rey," said Dagger, softly shaking her head, darkened locks flowing over her shoulders. "Your father and I....we keep you locked in this castle, like a cage, for the same reason a falconer imprisson's his birds. Hunters, Rey. People. One mistake, and your secret is out. One mishap, and the future of every royal member is diminished forever."  
  
"You felt this way, didn't you?" asked her son, anxiously. "You ran away when you were sixteen, with that Tantalus group...."  
  
"And I never spent a moment without blessing that day," admitted the queen, softly. "But it doesn't give reason to why I did it. Though you may have never been born, and though the very existence of this planet would have vanished....It never gave a promise to turn out the way it did, when I first thought about doing it. I was a princess, escaping a princess's duties. But you, Rey, are the only hope for this kingdom now. You have to accept that."  
  
"What if I don't?" he demanded suddenly, moving closer to the window. He nervously ran his figners through his short, semi-blonde hair, and gazed out over the numerous rooftops and peaks. "What if I choose to run away, like you did?"  
  
Dagger's eyes began to glass with pending tears. She choked them back, and shook her head again, "Then people will die, like they did the night I ran away. I thought I had it planned....I thought no one would ever notice I was gone.....But, Rey, others payed for my mistake, with their lives. Houses were destroyed. I made a decision that caused destruction."  
  
"And yet, here we are now...." Rey inhaled sharply, and turned to face his mother again. "There were casualties, but the outcome is now. Mother, admit that you are happy now. Admit it, please. Say that you are glad to be ruling Alexandria, with father by your side. And please, let me into town, if just for a day...."  
  
"I admit it," the queen said briskly. "But Rey, I can not grant you what you want. I can not take the risk of something happening to you. One day is too long...."  
  
"One hour!" the prince pleaded, gesturing with his hands.  
  
But Dagger shook her head. "One minute, one second...it's too much. Rey, please just stay inside the castle walls. Gart keeps you company, doesn't he?"  
  
"As mush as a self-centered know-it-all can," sighed Rey. "He is the closest I have to a companion, yet he isn't much of a friend. One day he'll turn his chubby cheek on me, and run away with a pig-sized bride. The Duke of Greenscoff will be glad for his pretty way of persuading. He'll make a fine lawyer, but never a friend."  
  
"The pressure get to you, huh?"  
  
Both Dagger and Rey turned to face a broadly-grinning Zidane, with his slightly-greying hair and white-patched tail swaying patiently back and forth. The king's smile only grew wider as he advanced through the doorway and towards the two discussioners, "Don't mind if I drop in?"  
  
"Not at all," said Rey, absently. He managed to flash a smile in his father's direction, but suddenly fell heavily into a nearby armchair. Zidane's eyes grew as wide as his grin.  
  
"I take it you'll be retiring then," he joked and looked to the queen. Dagger simply shook her head, implying that she had nothing to say about the subject. Zidane again returned his attention to his only son. "I got used to it, Rey. You've only come back from Linblum three years ago. It takes a little time for a year-round trip to wear off their minds completely. It'll only be this way for another month or so...."  
  
Rey's eyes sparked at the thought, "And then, could I go venturing outside of the castle?"  
  
Zidane looked troubled, "I....we'll have to see."  
  
"I can't believe this!" muttered the prince, in disbelief. "I'm a grown man and I'm treated as if I were born yesterday! Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with? At least I won't have to wait, until I die of boredom!"  
  
"Hey," the king warned, his tone changing drastically. "Watch what you wish for, son. Listen to you mother on this," Suddenly, his old, sixteen-year-old self sparkled though his eyes. "She's an expert."  
  
"Oh...." Dagger sighed, and tilted her face to gaze at the heavens above. "Listen, Rey....I am sorry. Please understand that it isn't my fault. If you wait, just a little longer, I can bring Lady Eiko's daughter by. You and her seem to share a good company. After all, Steiner is taking Gart to Burmecia tomorrow, and Eiko is arriving with her daughter on the airship that will take them. Palla is her name, isn't it?"  
  
"She is, with all due respect, Mother, a litte irresponsible. She can't keep her muzzle shut," said Rey.  
  
"Hear, hear," joked Zidane, only to recieve a wincing blow via Dagger's elbow to the king's stomach. "Ugh...never mind. What I mean is, that is the way she is raised. It wouldn't be fair to say it didn't run in her bloodline, either," he conlcluded, looking thoughful for a moment as he searched to remember the six-year-old summor girl with the horn (which was still attached to the summoner's head due to her stubborness).  
  
"Well," said Dagger. "You could always accompany Gart ant Steiner to-"  
  
"No, no...." said the prince, with yet another heavy sigh. "Don't worry about me, Mother, Father. I'll be here in the morning. Please let me get some rest now, though. It's nearly eight o'clock and I have three formal discussions, two meetings, and six escorts to attend to in the morning."  
  
"Lucky little luck-hogger," muttered the king. "Don't even bother asking me what I have to do come the crack of dawn. And don't get me started with your mother-"  
  
"Zidane," said Dagger, almost pleadingly. "We should leave now and let him get his rest. Besides, you have an escort to attend to right now."  
  
Zidane looked slightly baffled, "I do? When?"  
  
"Right now," repeated the queen, through gritted teeth. She half-dragged the king from the room, glancing only once behind her shoulder. "I hate to tell this to you before I say good night, Rey....but there are three noblewoman that are arriving on the same airship with Lady Eiko and Palla. They will all be attending dinner, and Zidane," she said, poking her husband in the ribs. "Has decreed that one of them will be your partner for the ball come tomorrow night. You have a big day, so please, try and sleep as fit as you can. Sleep tight, darling."  
  
Rey muttered something of a 'good night' to her, and stirred restlessly in his chair. Sleep tight? With everything he knew he had to get done, actually done in one day? How could he sleep at all, when he had so much to think about? Exhaling slowly, to express his exhaustion, the prince pulled himself to his feet. Slowly, he sombred over to the open window, and looked directly down, into the street below. He could see nothing but cobblestone, and water. Directly in front of the window was an old, gnarled oak tree that towered high above the sill.  
  
The prince took a long, chilled breath of the cool air. He let it pass through his lungs slowly, and breathed out with an exasperated expression. Not even the evening air could comfort him from the promise of tomorrow. Suddenly, a shivering breeze passed over his head, caressing the oak leaves and causing them to rustle eerily. They whispered to each other as the wind blew, a haunting, bristly sound filling the air. It almost seemed as if the tree were speaking to him in long, hissing words. But that was impossible. Trees did not speak, with or without the aid of the wind.  
  
Slowly, it began to dawn on him that the tree was not actually talking itself, but the voice he was hearing was coming from someone hidden among the thick branched themselves. Rey squinted, and found that he could make out the intruder's form just barely through the darkness. A dull anger boiled inside of him, "Hey!" he shouted to the person. "Who are you? Why do you interrupt me so?"  
  
"Reynarld...." whispered the voice again, and Rey watched as the figure shiftly quietly among the branches. "The prince."  
  
A cold fear abruptly struck the prince's heart, when yet another figure suddenly dropped down onto the nearest branch. Eyes wide with shock, Rey stumbled backwards, as the imposter made for the windowsill. 


	2. A New Option

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I do not own Final Fantasy IX.  
  
Final Fantasy IX, you do not own?  
  
No, I don't!  
  
You don't?!  
  
I just told you!  
  
Told me, you did not!  
  
Shut up!  
  
Shut up, I will not!  
  
(Eh, you get the picture)  
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"A New Option"  
  
By: Laura M. U  
  
Dedicated to: I don't know! The only two who've even read my ficcy are two peeps who ALWAYS read my ficcy's. hehehe. Well, I've dedicated something to BOTH of 'em, and I gotta dedicate this to SOMEONE, don't I? Oh well. Just for the hell of it, Ornery-Chan and the Sly Eagle, this one's urs until I get more reviews! *grin* (I'm just layin' the dedications thick, aren't I? Oh well, pretty soon they won't mean much to anyones, anyways...)  
  
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"Who...Who are you?" the prince demanded, a note of fear in his voice. The figure now crouched on his very windowsill, not flinching a muscle. Rey stared at those two, piercing blue eyes locked on his face, and shuddered. "Well? Who are you?" he demanded, repeating himself.  
  
"Oh, excuse my lack of dignity," said the stranger's husky voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Your highness...."  
  
"I or-order you to give me your name!" The prince swallowed and moved closer. Not too close. Whoever it was was more likely than not bearing a weapon of some sort.  
  
"My name?" inquired the intruder. Through the dim light, Rey saw his unnaturally white teeth flash in a grin of contempt. "Hey, Rascha," he called over his shoulder , into the darkness. "The crown prince of Alexandria wants to know my name! Me!"  
  
A loud snicker emitting from the depths of the thick leaves, "Tell him! Tell him your name, bro!"  
  
The strange man turned back to peer at the prince, "If it suits you, people call me Grabs. Don't have a name, don't want one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little business here that demands attention."  
  
Without another warning, 'Grabs' suddenly leapt from his spot, and landed on both feet in front of the prince. Rey stared in amazement, but found himself backing away, involunarily. Grabs smirked at him, and stood his full height to stare up into the royal's face.  
  
The man was considerably shorter than Rey, and for that, he thanked his lucky stars by name an order. He thanked the heavens themselves when he saw that Grabs' leather sheath was lacking it's sword, and the imposter held no apparent weapon in either hand. This stranger wore a variety of unusual clother, from faded, loose breechs to a silvery-grey vest. No shirt, in fact. Just a simple vest with no ties or buttons to call fasteners. Grabs' hair was slightly spiked, a simple, dark red in colour. His face was stout, but curved imperfectly. And his eyes sparkled blue, looking very out-of-place on his dirty, smirking face.  
  
"Oh, I seem to have starteld you," he bantered, and barked a harsh laugh. "Don't mind us -- we're not going to kill you or anything. We just wanted to bring us home a souvenir to prove to the boys that we visited Zidane's only son, after all."  
  
Suddely, Rey felt a very familiar temper mount inside of his skull, "You're nothing but common thieves..." he growled.  
  
"Oh," said the 'theif', for yet a thrid time. "I must apologize, you highness, I wasn't aware the front door was an option."  
  
"Yeh," said a calmer, but relatively bored voice from the window. Another man dropped inside from the old oak's branches. However short Grabs turned out to be, this new stranger looked like a redwood standing beside his partner. His built was stocky, his arms heavily muscled, and his hair a white-silver colour, no matter the fact that he appeared no younger than the prince himself. Rascha grunted, "We was trying te get the proper autori....ather....arter....uh, permission. That old briggard with the rusty armour threatened te have us thrown away."  
  
Grabs nodded, only absently, "So. Your old man treatin' ye well? Dad was curious."  
  
Rey blinked, and shook his head. Something, though he couldn't figure out what, told him that neither of the two men wanted anything, let alone his life. Besides, somehow, they seemed to know his father. "I don't know who sent you," he said, slowly. "But both of you have to leave, before you get found out. I won't tell the guards this time, but--"  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, hey..." said Grabs, lisfting his hands in mock defense. "Don't get hasty. Look, we dont' even want to be here, do we Rascha?"  
  
The giant of a man shook his head, and scratched the back of his neck with one, thickset hand, "Nope. Didn't wanna."  
  
"But," Grabs went on, shrugging casually. "We couldn't help but here ol' Zidane and Dagger talkin' about you on our way here. You'd be surprised how many windows they keep open on this creepy castle."  
  
Rey stared blankly at the thief, and shook his head, implying that he didn't understand. Grabs sighed.  
  
"You want out, don't you?" he asked, lifting a brow plaintivly.   
  
"Out?" Rey's voice was full of doubt, "I don't follow you."  
  
"Oi..." Grabs sighed again, and folded his arms. "You wanna get out of here, don't you? Or do you LIKE being locked up like dog? Did I hear your parents correctly?"  
  
"How do you know my parents?" Rey demanded, on the verge of his breaking point.  
  
Grabs rolled his eyes, and looked at his partner as if to say, 'Is this guy pathetic or what?' Rascha shrugged, and half-frowned, clearly unimpressed at the fact that they were wasting time. Grabs stared at the prince again, and finally gave in, "Do you know of a man named Blank, or not?"  
  
The name stuck a note of familiarity in Rey's mind, but it also warned him of something dangerous. He glanced impassionately at the both of them, and nodded, "I know him, yes."  
  
"An' Cinna?" said Rascha, gruffly.  
  
Rey thought, and recalled the odd-faced, middle-aged man with the hammer, and nodded again, uncertainly, "Yes."  
  
Grabs suddenly grinned, "Great. Well, Blank happens t'be my old man, and Cinna...." he jerked his thumb towards his companion, "Y'know."  
  
Rey's jaw dropped open, but he closed it abruptly, "You knew my father then....You're part of Tantalus, aren't you?"  
  
"Hey," said Grabs, and he chuckled menacingly. "He got it right on his first try. Yeah, and we're damned proud of it, too. Anyway, Dad told me to drop in and see if Zidane's still torturing you. Clearly, that's an understatement."  
  
"What's he been doin' te ye?" said Rascha, crossing his bulky arms. At the same moment, Rey spotted the over-sized, very heavy-looking mallet hooked across the giant's back.  
  
The prince shook his head from his daze, "Um...no, nothing, really. All right, so you're my father's friend's, sons. I think I understand now, but....How does Blank -- your father know what's happening here?"  
  
Grabs snorted, "Well, to be honest, my ol' man and the king are still pretty good friends, even after what's happened. Sure, Zidane's a little younger, but....Hey, waitaminute, you mean your dad is actually torturing you???"  
  
Rey shook his head agian, disapprovingly, "No, no...not torture. Not in the way you think, anyway. But he doesn't let me outside of the castle. In which, any other kind of torture I'd prefer! Yes, I want out. I want out of this wretched place, so I can meet an intelligent girl, see some sights, and at least get a breath of fresh air."  
  
"We've noticed," said Grabs, smirking again. "That's why he sent us te get you. I mean, you want to come, don't you?"  
  
"We'll get a real ass whoopin' if we go back without ye," said Rascha, dubiously.  
  
"Rascha," Grabs warned, punching his companion in the arm. Rascha looked at him as a dog might look at a flea.  
  
"Of course I want to leave," said the prince, his tone grating. "But I fear that I can't, escpecially since I have a whole day tomorrow to-"  
  
"Look, we aint' interested in what you gotta do," said Grabs, sneering with annoyance. "Do ye want to come with us, or not? We have a thousand more things to do, y'know."  
  
Rey stared from man to man, the look in his eyes expressing his ambivalvance. "I don't....know."  
  
"Well, you'd better know," said Grabs. "Or I'll know for you."  
  
"If I did come with you," said Rey, hand slowly encircling the hilt of his sword. "I'd have to be back by tomorrow morning."  
  
Grabs looked rather doubtful at this, "Uh, I'm not sure that'll be an option. For this reason and that, anyway. Well, if you can't come, I mean, you can't come after all. I suppose we'll just leave you to escort Lady Palla, and the minister's daughter....wasn't Lerella her name?"  
  
Rey winced, gritting his jaws tightly together. Lerella. He'd lost count how many times she'd returned to Alexandria, just to be escorted and seen at the royal prince's side. She was scornful, and quite dumb to put it bluntly. The prince exhaled sharply, "Very well. I'll go with you."  
  
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(Oh, writing is such sweet sorrow.....Eh, isn't that Ornery-Chan's quote? Right. Anyway....tell me what you think! *is too lazy to write a long footer*) 


	3. Matter Of Sorts

I don't own Final Fa -- WAITAMINUTE! Just read the first chapters first, k? You'll KNOW then that I don't own it, and that Sqauresoft does! Lol! ^____^  
  
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"Matters Of Sorts"  
  
By: Gee, let me think....Laura M. Ulian?  
  
Dedicated to: To ALL of my readers! Hehe! Which of course includes Merciful Rose and Dragon Knight Freya, and Darknes and Losergrl-Hoppus, AND the Sly Eagle and Orner-Chan....kinda wierd. I got 7 reviews, but 5 readers....lol. Anyway, this fic is dedicated to them who read it! My new policy! Lol....  
  
  
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"Watch it!" Grabs' voice reached the princes ears, as he slowly, inch by inch, slid down the trunk of the old oak tree. Despite the fact he cut, bumped, and bruised himself in several areas, Rey felt a thrill of adventure by just doing it. He lifted his head to watch, as both thieves climbed down the structure's branches. They couldn't help but show off, and Rey, without knowing it, envied them. Finally, when all three had their feet planted firmly on the ground, the prince truned to Grabs. To his surprise, the young theif was already walking away.  
  
"Hey!" Rey called after him, running to catch up. "I still have not asked you....Why does Blank wish me to....get out?"  
  
Grabs turned around, flashing a sarcastic smile, "Understanding, Rey-man. Understanding. That's what he told me, anyway."  
  
Rey wrinkled his nose briefly, "Rey-man?"  
  
"Hey bro," said Rascha, as he moved up behind them. "How we gonna get across the lake this time?"  
  
Grabs rolled his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair, "Same way we did to get here, bro. Swim."  
  
"What??!!" cried both Rey and Rascha at the same time.  
  
The thief just shook his head, grinning like a madman. Leaving the two standing in utter stupor, he moved forward to the very brink of the cobblestone. The water below gently lapped at the stones underfoot, reflecting the night's eerie moonlight. Grabs slowly knelt down and stuck a finger into it's cool surface. Eyes widening in mock surprise, he yanked it out and shook his hand distastfully, "Geez....kinda cold."  
  
"But bro, we dinna-" Rashca began, once again scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Oh, would you look at that," Grabs intervened, standing up to point. "And with out luck, too! Who would've thought there'd be a BOAT right where we left it, Rascha?"  
  
Sheepishly, the giant grinned and slunk back a few steps, "Aye...yeah, I forgot, Grabs. Man, you had me fer a minute 'er two, I thought-"  
  
"Get in," Grabs growled, gesturing to the prince. "My good hospitality just fled with whatever nerves I had left tonight..."  
  
Rey sneered -- something he found himself doing all too often lately. But he silently obeyed. As he stepped from the rocks, onto the wooden bottom of the small boat, he began to think negatively. Two strangers just abdcuted him from his room, claiming to be related to friends of his father. And he'd agreed? For all he knew, the both of them could be kidnapping him -- a grown man -- to hold him for ransom. The prince felt his mind double over with the realization. Just as Grabs took a seat in the bow, Rey's senses snapped, and he seized the young man by the collar. Grabs yelped in surprise as he fell backwards, and found himself staring up into Rey's face, twisted in uncertain fury.  
  
"I'm not stupid," the prince snapped, glaring wrathfully down at his captive. "If this is some sort of plot, or scheme to rob my parents, so help you-"  
  
"Hey, hey!" Grabs protested, flailing his arms. Above them, Rashca observed with a puzzled expression. "If we wanted any money, pal, we woulda just gone and done it ourselves!" the young theif pulled himself out of the princes grasp, and sat himself back up, gritting his teeth. "Geez, if not a prince, man, you'd have made a great addition for Tantalus, I'll give ya that."  
  
"My abilty to attack a scoundrel from behind, makes me no less of a prince," hissed Rey.  
  
"Scoundrel?" Rascha suddenly put one, heavy foot into the boat, causing it to sink halfway into the water. The giant didn't appear to notice, "Man, Rey, that 'urts, y'know. You've been hangin' around that Steiner bloke a' all?"  
  
"Whoa, Rashca!" Grabs shoved his partner from behind. The boat rocked threateningly. "You're gonna sink this half of boat, bro!"  
  
Carelessly, Rascha swung his other foot into the boat. It creaked helplessly, and sunk several inches more. Surprisingly enough, the boat did not submerge, but stayed well above the water's surface. Rascha seized the two oars in his great hands and used one, massive foot to push the boat form shore. Again, it shook, and nearly capsized, but before Rey even knew it, they'd shot a straight seven yards from the cobblestone's edge. Rascha hummed as he rowed.  
  
"Ugh..." Rey groaned, as he felt his stomach do a flop. He dropped his head.  
  
"Oh, splendid," said Grabs, crossing his arms. They both sat at the front now, where the prince had smartly fled when Rascha almost sat on him. The thief sighed, "A fine time to find out yer prone to seasickness."  
  
"I'll be fine..." said Rey, as he clutched his stomach. "Haven't been on a boat in seven years, though."  
  
Grabs' eyes broadened, "Yer serious? They really do keep you cooped up in there," he said, matter-of-factly.  
  
"Don't remind me."  
  
"Anyways," said Grabs, channging the subject. "You've got a whole city-full of people out there, Rey. Not to mention ol' Baky-man, and Slick. Jus' wait until ye meet Marcus's girl. You'll flip. And then there's those four five critters, y'know, the little black mage's kids? And Red's-"  
  
"I don't care..." sighed the prince. "Just take me to Blank. I shouldn't even be here, I have a great many of things to do tomorrow. Six girls, Grabs. I have to escort six girls, and attend....oh, I can't even remember how many....When will this boat ride end?"  
  
Grabs ignored him, and glared out over the water, "Baby," he muttered under his breath.  
  
The ride did end, finally. However, even as they neared the opposite shore, at the end of an alley southeast of the castle, a loud voice rang out over the water. A slender figure stood on a vacant-looking dock. Her voice was impatient, and her antics rather jumpy, and insistant. Grabs made a rude noise of disapproval, and he stood up. Rey seized the sides of the boat, as it rocked back and forth.  
  
"Emmy, get back to the hideout, woman!" Grabs shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I'll tell Dad!!"  
  
"Is 'e with y'all?" Emmy yelled back, picking up her skirts as she ran to the end of the dock. "Is the crown prince really 'ere? I wanna see 'im, Jeremy! I wanna meet 'im!"  
  
Rey looked up with a note of humour in his eyes. He stiffled a laugh, "J-Jeremy?"  
  
"Shut yer hole," snapped 'Jeremy', sitting roughly into his seat, as the boat drew closer, and closer to the dockside. "So I have a given name. Doesn't mean anything. I'm Grabs, ye got it?"  
  
"Yeh, Jeremy, whatever ya say," said Rascha, and barked a single 'ha'.  
  
It was Grabs' turn that night to sneer, "Just because she won't call me Grabs...." he muttered, half to himself.  
  
Softly, the boat touched down on the dock. Before it had even stopped moving, Grabs had leapt from his spot, and was already confronting the girl named 'Emmy', before Rey even though of getting out. Rascha helped him climb onto the dock, while Emmy and Grabs argued behind them. Rascha seemed to ignore them, whether he was deaf, of prone to listening to them. Rey rolled his eyes, and found a comfortable moment to intervene their conversation.  
  
"Your sister?" he asked plaintivly, raising a brow.   
  
"Unortunately, yes," said Emmy, before Grabs could reply. "'is YOUNGER sister!"  
  
"That's supposed to make you my babysitee?" growled the young thief. "Her real name is Emerald, and she's nineteen years old. Doesn't look it, but sadly, she is."  
  
Rey veiled his surprised. Grabs was right. 'Emerald' had light blue hair, that flowed across her shoulders. Her face was small, and petite, and her skin rather pale. But she looked no younger than six-teen at the most. Emmy crossed her arms, and smirked mischievously, "Jus' cause I got a husban' and he aint married, 'es a sourpuss."  
  
Something about her accent struck a note of familiarity in the prince's mind, but he shook it off, "Pleasure to meet you," he said, trying his best to remain composed. Another girl. Another blasted girl. He'd been hoping his formal days were over....for a while, at least.  
  
Grabs sighed again, "She's a memeber of Tantalus. The only thing that keeps her there is the fact that she's a high-ranking member's daughter. Otherwise, Baky-man'd kicked her out a long time ago."  
  
"Oooh!" Emmy cried impatiently. "Oh, I don't even wanna meet 'im anymore!" she added, and spun on her heel. Rey watched with a stroke of fascination as she stormed back down the dock. He looked at Grabs, and Grabs shrugged, "Should we get going?"  
  
"I'm 'ungry," grumbled Rascha. He absently tied a rough knot in the boat's rope, to keep it in place. "Ruby'd better have somethin' cooked up or 'all kick straight, feet flyin' up everywhere, fall te the floor..."  
  
Grabs smirked, and whispered into the princes ear, "Rascha's the only man alive that enjoys my mom's food."  
  
Rey shrugged, and whispered back, "He has his opinion."  
  
"Not a very good one," said Grabs. He snorted.  
  
"Oi, yer both in big trouble, Grabs!"  
  
Startled, all three men whirled around. From the end of the dock, came not one, but two figures moving through the darkness. Rey looked accusingly at Grabs, but Grabs only huffed and folded his arms in an irritated manner, "Oh, man...Here we go."  
  
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(No long footer. About a day or so ago, I realized how pointless they are. LALALALALA.....no one reads 'em, right? Anyway....sorry 'bout the delay. You'll have to find out who's after these guys now. Two strangers...who could they be? Well, until next time peeps....ciao!) 


	4. New Faces

Yei, I'm up and running again! *pats the side of her head* The gears are oiled, and my motor's, well, motorized. Sorta. I'm tiiiiiired.....sooooo tired. But being tired, however crazy it is, makes me write all so much better! *grin* Anyway....Chapter four's up now, so I hope ur all ready for a coupla new chars....not that there hasn't been enough already, hehehe....  
  
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"New Faces"  
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By: Laura M.U  
  
Dedicated to all my readers! lol  
  
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Rey stared.  
  
Grabs tapped his foot impatiently, "What do you want?" he called to the strangers.  
  
"You're late!" barked the larger, more demanding man of the two. He and his comrade could be seen clearly now in the moonlight's dull glow. "Just wait until Baku hears about this! He said twenty-four hundred hours, not tomorrow!"  
  
"It's quarter past..." Grabs muttered. "How is fifteen minutes late?"  
  
"Aw, Slick...." Rascha growled, dropping the rope from his hands. He had an expectant, almost defeated look to him, like a robber caught stealing red-handed. "And ye had te bring Creepers wit' ya too!"  
  
The smaller, hunched figure lifted his head to stare inignatly at the giant. 'Creepers' snorted, and shook his ragged hair, "Don't call me Creepers, pal. I'll box ye one."  
  
Slick, a very tall, lanky man with a hooked nose and intelligent eyes, approached them with long, unforgiving strides. He stopped short, and reached forward with one hand. Rey, at first impulse shrunk back a little. But the hand was not dirrected at him. Instead it hovered for a spilt second above Grab's head, made a fast fist, and rapped the theif's skull a few time. Slick scowled, "Well, at least you still have some brains in there."  
  
Grabs ducked under the taller man's hand, and snickered, "Yeah, the ones that were spared from Lanslo's lectures."  
  
Rey blinked, "Lanslo? Grabs, who is this?"  
  
"Slick," said Grabs simply. "He's Jack's son, case you haven't noticed his little flaw."  
  
Rey blinked, and peered closer at Slick, but couldn't find any little 'flaw' so to speak of at all.  
  
"And this," Grabs continued, clearly sick of introductions. He gestured nonchalantly at the hunched figure shouldering, or more siding Slick. "Is Lanslo. He's ugly, but brilliant. Oh, and try to refrain from calling him Creepers. He hates that name, even though it is his first."  
  
Lanslo peered up into the prince's face with a half-sneer. Or perhaps it was a smile? "I aint ugly. An' I aint no Creepers, so mind your tongue."  
  
Rey raised a brow, but said nothing. Lanslo was, in fact, fairly unattractive. His jaw was a slightly misshapen sqaure, and his nose was bent to one side. But his eyes, green, and clear, were the brightest,, and most all-knowing eyes that Rey had ever seen, save for Professor Tot's. The old scholar, however unfourtunately, had died but a year ago. He now rest in an elegant, albeit short grave in the safest of Alexandria's cemeteries -- The Brahne Memorial.   
  
The prince shook his head from the sad thoughts, and cleared his throat, "Well, I'm sure you all know by now who I am."  
  
"Yeah," said Slick, tucking his hands into the pockets of his large vest. "Yer the one-hell-of-a-lucky guy that was born a royal, among the rest of us umentioned."  
  
Grabs shook his head, when he saw Rey look at him rather inquisitvely, "He means that you're the son of a man that became royal by marriage, when he was nothing but a common thief like the rest of his friends, and everyone fusses over you, instead of the children any other one of the 'heroes' have."  
  
"You got all of that from what he said?" the prince inquired, amusingly.   
  
"There's more, if you care to hear it," said Grabs, shrugging.  
  
"Baku wants te meet ye," said Lanslo, shuddering. It was clear he either feared the leader of Tantalus or loathed him. "Tha' man is one temper an' a half, I tell ye. Logically, 'es only using 'is reputation to control the minds of others. If I were born tall, an' without a speech impediment, I'd teach 'im a thing 'er two abou' leadership."  
  
Grabs shot the prince a what-did-I-tell-you look, and landed his glare on the hunched, scruffy man again, "Lanslo and Baky-man are actaully pretty close. Mr. Creepers here just thinks that Baku being Boss is a little too much for an old man. He won't admit it."  
  
"'E can't lead a chocobo to water, let alone a fifty-strong groupa thugs...." Lanslo muttered, mostly to himself.  
  
Rey's eyes widened, "Fifty-strong?" Suddenly, another question came to mind. "Wait, just what relation does...er, Lanslo have with.....well, anyone?"  
  
"None," admitted Rascha, from behind. "'E just wandered in one day, an' asked fer the job. Baku took a real liking to 'im the day 'e joined, an' if ye don't believe me, ask Red."  
  
Rey blinked, feeling half a league behind their words, "Just a second..." he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Red....tell me who that it. I think I'm absorbing this, but..."  
  
To his surprise, Grabs laughed, and slapped him on the back with a gloved hand, "Ha! You're funny, Rey-man. Y'know that? Hilarious. An' just in case you weren't serious, Red's well....someone ye don't wanna know. I'll tell yout that much. Never met him before, of course. But I didn't know who he was, and when Dad told me, I wish I hadn't asked. Now I got nightmares that he's gonna come back with that son of his, and pluck us all from our ranks, like cherries from cherries jubliee. Got it?"  
  
The prince shook his head, "No. But I believe that I now have a theory about who, this man is..."  
  
"Well, keep the theory somewhere safe," said Slick, chuckling. "I don't wanna hear it."  
  
"But it I might-" Rey began, a new though surfacing in his mind.  
  
"Nope!" said Slick, holding up a hand to silence him. His deep voice thundered across the very lake, "Don't say it! I just don't wanna know. His name, where he may be, or why the hell he'd return."  
  
Grabs stared at his friends, wide-eyed, "Return-" he started.  
  
"Shut it!" snapped Lanslo, sneering with distaste. "Wit' all th' rumors and legends set abou' that man, I myself don't even wanna be reminded that 'e exists. 'Sides, even if 'e did return, it'd be a healthy 3.6 days b'fore the man could return, with or without 'is son."  
  
"That gives us plenty of time to forget about it," said Slick, before anyone else could stretch the subkect further. "I, for one, am going to the pub. Rey, you can join me if you'd like."  
  
"But hey-" Grabs intervened, jaw agape.  
  
"Ye won't get inta trouble," growled Lanslo. "Ol' man Baku said he'd be expectin' you and the prince near six-hundred hours this mornin'. Ye got five hours, forty-seven minutes until deadline, hear? I'm goin' te bed. G'night."  
  
Grabs, Slick, and Rascha all murmered a farewell, and 'g'night', before the scruffy man slunk off down the dock. Rey watched him go, a new wave of confusion bubbling to his mind's surface. "I just don't understand..." he muttered, gesturing helplessly. "I left my warm room, and feather-bed to come out here and converse with a handful of thugs."  
  
"Hey," said Grabs, slapping his shoulder again. "Don't feel so down, a'ight? We're not all that bad. It's better than getting kidnapped and held fer ransom, right?"  
  
"I have my doubts on that..." grumbled Slick.  
  
"Excuse me, my fine man?" said Grabs, glaring crudely at his comrade. "Did I just hear a mouse squeak?"  
  
"If he stays with you, he'll learn a whole fat load of bad habits. We gotta return him soundly, and in one piece, right?" said Slick, shrugging innocently.  
  
Grabs stared, "And that's why you're going to take him to the bar."  
  
"It's a pub!" protested the lanky thief. But he grinned. "There's no madmen at the bar at midnight. Just a buncha drunk nobles trying to drown their sorrows with a swat of wine, I'd say."  
  
Grabs sighed, and glanced at Rey, "Everything he says is a lie," he said, folding his arms. "More often than not, the truth's the complete opposite."  
  
"So he wants to return a shredded me rolled into a wine barrel, while creating a noisy entrance?" snorted, the prince. Behind him, Rascha guffawed a great bellow of laughter, and slapped a hand to his knee. Grabs glared at him as well.  
  
"I like this fella," said Slick, a grin crossing his face. "Well, I'll be takin' your prince off your hands now, Grabs. Don't you have a report to file or something?"  
  
"Later," said Grabs, uncrossing his arms. "I'll be honest. I don't trust you. Which means me an' Rascha'll have to join your little mascarade. Right, Rascha?"  
  
"I'm hungry," the giant growled, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
"That's his way of agreeing," said Grabs, nodding to both prince and fellow thief. Whatever grin Slick had plasterd on his face, was now tranferred to his red-haired comrade. Grabs slung his arm over the prince's shoulder, "So it's just me, you, and the boys tonight, pal. Rey, get ready fer life."  
  
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	5. A Pub With Attitude

It _did_ take a little while to update this…but here I am! I feel like writing a little…it doesn't take me long to write anymore. So let's see…what can I do to make this ficcy a _little_ but more complicated??

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                "This pub's not like a noble's pub," Slick explained dully. "New people get mugged, every night. Takes a little time to get used to."

                It took the lanky man a while to catch Rey's wary glare. They stopped in front of twin doors, the words 'Blood of the Grape' engraved in a copper plate hanging above its frame. The red-haired man raised a brow with amusement. "That aint' a nice look. Get a grip, no one makes a fool out of Slick's friends if Slick has something to say about it."

                "Slick can't say somethin' about it if Slick got no tongue," a man barked humorously as he shoved by. His comrades snickered, disappearing into the dreary building behind him. Slick scowled.

                "We're getting' nowhere standin' outside in the dark," he grumbled. "Yer gonna stand there like that all night?"

                Puzzled, the prince hastily shook his head.

                "Good, now get in," The taller man seized Rey by the shoulders, spun him, and shoved him through the dingy doors of the pub.

                Rey was immediately struck with an array of haughty voices, half of them drunk and joyous, the others bitter and ugly. The room was only lit by a few covered torches, though it's temperature was warmer and more pleasant than it had been outside. Sour ale an week-old vomit was the smell of the place, nothing less than typical for a middle-class bar that served certain poison in the majority of their drinks. Behind the prince, Slick entered with a proud head. He too, was greeted with angry, and welcoming roars.

                "Slick, my man, ye did it!" A broad-shouldered, gray bearded man of his fifties approached the pair from the darkest corner of the room. He slung an arm around the frailer man's shoulders, giving him a brief squeeze. "Told ye -- ye could do it all right."

                "Yeah, he did it all right," sneered a sunken-faced farmer from the middle table. "Mad 'enough to take the kid from his crib I'll wager!"

                A wave of laughter and applause met his boast. Rey felt his cheeks begin to redden.

                "Oh, stop it!" A petite, feminine voice cut through the bass-like rumble. A pretty-face female around the age twenty-five or so smirked through the grim light. She stood behind the bar, brushing a long, pale blue stand of hair from her eyes. She fluttered those same eyes in Slick's direction, leaning over the bar. "Slick, darlin', I've been waiting for hours…"

                The hook-nosed thief bared his sharp teeth in a triumphant grin. He took three long strides to reach the stained counter, clearing his throat consciously. "Filly, babe, you're lookin' pretty."

                The girl leaned away again, turning her face away on him. Loud guffaws were heard throughout the room, and Slick felt his face begin to flush.  To the prince's horror, he lifted a single hand in front of her face and proceeded to give her a gesture that Rey had only seen his father give court officials behind their backs. The remaining drunks fell silent as all attention was drawn to that one hand.

                However, instead of spitting, or slapping the man whom had been so wrongfully spiteful to her, the blue-haired woman returned the gesture with two hands, waving them in front of his eyes like a lady should never do.

                Even before Slick revealed his next comeback, several throaty voices began to utter a low chorus. These men were the few who knew the lanky thief personally, and were getting ready for what they knew was next. Rey blinked, taking in Slick's next action with tongue-swallowing shock.

                Two more arms, unfolding out from around the gaunt man's waist, offered yet two more hands to the girl's vision, extending those fingers that made the pretty woman's face flush crimson. Four arms, attached to a crazy-faced Slick, hovered there with four fingers split among four hands, there to show the wide-eyed damsel how he had beaten her – no question. He watched her stomp her foot and charge into the back room, slamming the latch down behind her. The room then erupted into cheers and cat yowling, while Rey stared on in silent protest.

                "That's Jack's boy all right!" 

                "Slick, my man, that's the first time I've seen 'er run off like somethin' ate 'er!!" The thickset, middle-aged man from their previous encounter walloped the younger thief on the back. Slick squeaked, stumbling forward slightly. His hands clasped the edge of the bar, the man himself gasping for blessed air. The others around him chortled, while the cause of Slick's lack of ventilation stood solidly. "Ah, yer fine," he grumbled humorously, half-flopping onto a vacant bar stool.

                Rey could only stare between the gaping four-armed man and his mentor. He barely felt himself move when one man grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him roughly onto a stool next to gray-beard. Feeling able to breath on his own, Slick slumped onto the stool he'd been using as his only support. The prince stil gazed on, the question blurting out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Why do you have four arms?"

                Slick grunted out of the side of his mouth. "Alcohol. Lots of it."

                Rey raised a brow. "What-"

                "I was talkin' to her," said the winded thief, gesturing at the shy-faced girl whom had crept her way back into the room. She didn't look in their direction, but began to prepare Slick's order anyway. His voice was clearer when he spoke next. "Was born that way. Why else? Thought ye noticed by now…"

                "Not exactly," replied the prince, slowly. "Wow. I mean…wow."

                Gray-beard chuckled through the mug he was currently drinking from. He set the booze down on the bar, planting an elbow on his lap and leaning forward to keep his voice low. "Damn me if it don't have its advantages, kid. Best fist-fighter I ever met. Knife-thrower, swordsman…you name it, and he's the best."

                "Liar," mumbled Slick, crossing all of his arms. "Ye know I'm good only because of what I got and you don't."

                "He's th' only modest thief I've met, so that serves him th' title." Gray-beard coughed, stroking the uneven whiskers on his chin.

                Rey blinked. "What title?"

                Slick groaned. "Oh no…"

                "Ye hear that?" Gray-beard immediately bellowed, lifting his ale into the air. "The kid want's te know who my man Slick is!"

                After a brief busrt of laughter and a loud 'thump' as Slick met the flat of the table with his head, every man in the room began a tune in perfect unison.

                _"Well Silly Slick's got lots of time, he'll never tell a lie!_

_                These eighteen years he's gotten by, _

_                'Lo, listen! You'll know why!"_

"Holy crap…" Slick covered his ears with all four hands.

                _"Girls got picky feelings,_

_                They don't wanna hear his name!_

_                Lucky fool he used te be!_

_                For none te play his game!"_

_                "Those arms he's got, there's not a trick,_

_                That he don't know too well._

_                Ask 'im who he listens to,_

_                This's what he'll tell-"_

"A'right!" snapped Slick, pounding the table with three fists. With the fourth, he pointed directly at gray-beard, who had already formed the first word of the next verse on his lips. Breaking down into uncontrollable burst of laughter, the drunken man sat back onto his stool. Slick scowled. "Ye proved your point, are ye happy?"

Rey was confused. He understood the song, however, it was wrong. "I don't understand. You say he take orders from some superior, and he's a virgin."  
                The room exploded with howling voices. Slicks glared at Rey as if he desired greatly to end his life.

                "But," continued the prince. The men settled again, simply aching to hear more of the favorable embarrassment. "That's not very nice. I am the same way."

                Gray-beard choked on his ale, most of it spurting from his nose. Coughing, he seemed to shake off the drunken effect he had taken, and stared at the prince as if he were insane. Many of the men did the same. "What? Boy, are you madder than flies? Wit' all them girls you court, that's the last ye'd think te say!"

                "Nay," chuckled Rey. "Those are noble ladies you speak of. They don't believe in that thing before marriage, my friend."

                Gray-beard stopped gagging, wiping the foam from his bristly moustache. "Yer one sorry kid, prince."

                "Yes…" Rey's cheeks flushed angrily. "I know. I know that very well."

                "Well, Slicky here," Gray-beard jerked a thumb towards the glowering thief. "'E never had a girlfriend in 'is life. Say four arms creeps them out, they do."

"Women don't like four-armed men," echoed Slick, sourly. "It's a rule."

                "'Sides Belle, o'course." Gray-beard grunted, and took another swig of his brew. 

                Slick caught Rey's inquiring side-glance and shrugged. "My dam," he explained.

                "Who is he?" Rey finally found the right moment to ask that question. He nodded toward Gray-beard, again drowning himself with more booze. 

                "That'd be Gil. If ye think he's named after fish lungs, think again." Slick carelessly seized the handles of two bar mugs from a passing tray.  They were full to the brim and foaming over with fresh alcohol. Passing one to a revolted Rey, he quickly downed a quarter of his own with a single swig. 

                "That's me name," admitted gray-beard. He tapped the bottom of his glass against the table a few times. "Damn, this is borin'. If ol' Baku were here, thing'd be different. Or mebbe Blank, but I 'ear he's on some special assignment."

                "Ye know who I miss at these gigs," slurred a man a couple of seats away. He was probably the drunkest of them all, with barely enough strength to form distinguishable words. "Mr. Coral, folks…he'd give us somethin' te do, naw question!"

                "Pete, shut it," growled Gil, jarring the man's barstool with a foot. "Ye know none of us 'ere like to talk about that man."

                "Is…" Rey glanced between Gil and Slick. Slick looked away. "…Coral…isn't that Ama-"

                "Boy, I gotta knife and it hates that name," Gil warned hastily. Through his mumbled words, he managed another swig of ale before continuing his deathly stare at the young prince.

                "I apologize…it's just that he's my father's-"

                "There aint a man here that don't know it," Slick interrupted. "Drunk or not."

                "But the fool's right…" Gil went on, referring to Pete. "If that half-assed sissy were 'ere he'd give us somethin' to do. Cinna don't trust the lot of us, that's jus' it." Then, very unexpectedly, the middle-aged man's eyes rolled back into his head. Gurgling, he slumped against the bar, out cold like a rock.

                Rey looked up, and blinked into the face Grabs, whom was holding a wooden club the size of his forearm. The shorter thief grimaced, tossing the makeshift weapon onto the floor. "That's my best friend's father yer talkin' about, Gil," he informed the unconscious man. "He's no sissy, and the only half-ass he's got will be the one he tears from your sorry end."

                Slick sighed, scratching the back of his head with one of his right hands. "Mornin' Grabs. Have a seat."

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**So? Comments? Feedback, people…feedback! Can't…*gasp*…live…*choke* without it! ^__^**   

                  
 


	6. CATASTROPHE!

  
  
  
  


I know there are several of you waiting for my updating of Turbulence. There are even more of you waiting for me to update my Amarant/Lani pairings but NO! No rest for the weary. So, on with the fanfics. 

  
  


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"So where'd ye dump Creepers?"

Grabs grabbed a fistful of Gil's shirt and hauled him out of his seat. The gray bearded man lolled onto the floor, oblivious to his rough treatment. The red-haired thief, whom settled with an irate look, took his seat. "Couldn't get home. Remembered I lost my last pick, so I gave up. Creep's asleep."

"No doubt," said Slick. He bore an old-fashioned sense of humor to his tone. "Well, that crashes my party. Whaddaya say about tourin' the local candy stand, Rey?"

The prince stifled his exhaustion, but blinked at four-armed man experimentally. "It sounds like fun, but…candy stand?"

"Ferget I said it," grunted Slick, knocking his chair over as he stood up. "I mean let's go check out the city. Ever been around the block yet, or once?"

"N-not really…" Rey felt burdened by the sudden draw of glares by the surrounding drunks. "What I mean is…I'm not allowed to leave. Well, I wasn't. I suppose I am still grounded by that."  
"Grounded!" Grabs pounded the table unexpectedly with his fists. "For eighteen years! You're a looney, ye know that? Let's go."

"Whoa, man!" Slick passed behind Grabs as he began to rise out of his seat. The shorter thief was forced back down under the pressure of all four of Slick's hands. The tall man leaned over his shoulder. "I didn't think yer invited. Never said so, did I?"

"I fetch'd him, Slick!" snapped Grabs, skillfully ducking out of his friend's hold. He stood up straight, but did not come a close foot below Slick's chin. "Lay off. I got the right to come, anyway."

"That depends, don't it?" Slick turned to Rey and crossed two arms. "Whaddya think, your highness? Who'd best guide you? I wouldn't want to be stuck alone with Grabs, though, so ye'd better choose wisely."

"Huh," Rey stood up, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite trust either of you. If you're planning to kill me, I don't see why a third member in the party would be a hassle."

Slick stared, but only momentarily. "Ha! You're bold to a fault, ye know that? What else, who cares. Fine, we'll both take ye if ye feel that way."

"I don't," said Rey simply. "I acting for your friend's benefit, not mine."

"Yeah. Thanks." Grabs seized Rey by the velvet collar and started to pull him through the crowd. "Jus' let me know when ye start appreciating my effort, ye cushioned baby."

"H-hey!" Rey clung to the hand in front of his face and tried to pull away. At that moment he really did begin to realize how pathetically weak he was compared to these men. Grabs' fist was a rock.

Cool air enveloped them, and the creak of the pub door echoed with a loud bang. A second set of footsteps was detectable from behind them. Slick, Rey supposed, was either coming to rescue him or egg his companion on.

The prince floundered, losing his balance when the red-haired thug let him go. He landed square on his back on the ground. His breath was knocked out momentarily, and his head rung with a thousand bells. Amidst the bleary, starry sky, he could make out the faces of his two new 'mistrustees'. 

"Think he'll last?"

"Not a chance."

Their faces disappeared.

"Oi…" Rey coaxed his lungs out of their state of shock. Grimacing subconsciously, the prince scrambled to his feet and furiously brushed the stones and dust out of his hair. "I'll bet you thought that was funny!" he snapped angrily. "But let me tell you it hurt! I mean, I don't recall ever - huh? Hey, w-wait! Wherever do you think you're going?"

Slick and Grabs turned around and proceeded towards the silent square with a backwards pace. Slick shrugged and tossed his multiple hands into the air. "I dunno what yer talkin' about! Don't wanna see the city anymore?"

"Well, of course I do!" said Rey reproachfully. He staggered a bit, but remained standing. At once, he raced forward to catch up. "But I hardly felt that the ground was a necessary destination."

"Necessary," snorted Grabs. He slung his arm around Rey's shoulders, causing him to shirk slightly. "Since when does a little shove have te be necessary?"

"Well," Rey sniffed, lumbering on. "I'm…I'm fragile."

"And I agree," said Slick.

The prince shook off the burdening arm and looked around in wonder. "So…where is it you're taking me exactly?"

"Beats me," said Grabs. He stretched. "Anywhere, I s'pose. We rule Alexandria at night. No offense."

"Trust me, none taken," said Rey, a little darkly.

"Damn, that reminds me." Grabs turned his head towards Slick. "What happened to Rascha?"

"Do I look like a babysitter?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Yer the one who saw th' man last!"

"He vanished, beansy! You tellin' me that our good buddy 'ol pal who can't remember his way to the damn lavatory is lost somewhere, in the dark, with enemy gangs hangin' about ready to slug him?"

Slick stopped. They all stopped. "Well, somethin' like that."

The trio listened to a sudden bellow of pain. Rey watched as the faces of the two thieves twisted into genuine surprise, and almost instantly recognized the source of the sound. He needed no further motive to race ahead into the grave square, a moment's stride behind Grabs. The red-haired man was evidently slower than Slick, and much less capable to do what the four-armed thug did next.

Grabs rushed forward. Slick dove to one side, grabbed a edge of the roof shingles and practically flew on top of the nearest roof. Despite their showing no signs of fatigue, Rey was already beginning to lag from a side cramp. He slowed down and forced himself to jog the rest of the way. In the meantime, he was left behind by the nimble duo.

He was several yards behind, in fact, when he was faced by the awning of a wide alleyway. The shadowy place was packed with a few more than a dozen men, all dressed poorly and bearing crude implements of torture. Slumped against a wall in the midst of them was a heavily bleeding man, a giant in size but lacking his better health. 

"I didna…I diddin' do nuttin'…" Rascha spoke through his own blood. His nose was completely broken, smashed in and splintered. The pack had gashed an eye. He was covered everywhere with oozing wounds that discreetly provoked a certain anger in certain minds.

"Well…" The leader, Rey supposed, spoke. He was a stout man with evil intent in his eyes. "Let me make this clear to you. My boss doesn't want to kill anyone that's useful. So this thing…with Baku tellin' us in? Tell me, big guy, why does your old man want us bagged?"

"I…tellin'…I'm swearin' it…I dun know…" Rascha hardly moved as he spoke.

The unfamiliar gang broke into a cloud of snarls and jeers.

"Yer tryin' me, hero!" 

Rey winced as the disgusting sound of a fist striking human flesh reached his ears. He withdrew somewhat, relying on the darkness of the early morning to hide him. He could not help but wonder as the minute drew on - where were Grabs and Slick?

"Answers, pudgy, answers!" The leader struck him again, this time using the shard of broken glass that was already stained with blood. "I killed your breed before, an' this won't be any different."

Rey was getting impatient. This torture had to stop, or else Rascha would, well…die. The concept of that kind of loss moved him, inviting an unwilling chill down his spine. The poor man didn't deserve it. It wasn't a fair fight, even for a man of Rascha's stature. It was, the prince decided, uncultured brutality.

All this time, and not a sign or glimpse of the other Tantalus members! Rashcha moaned after another blow from the leader's makeshift weapon, slipping in and out of consciousness continually. Another hit, and another, and another. By the fifth strike in a moment, Rey felt an unrecognizable fury build up inside of him and lunge from his throat.

"You, stop it!"

The glass flew out of the leader's hand as he spun around. It spun into the darkness, clinking harmlessly against the wall of an empty house. The rest of his gang leapt back, some ducking or shying away to avoid being struck by sharp object as it soared into ignorance. In turn, every one of them turned towards the well-dressed prince, whom realized in his own direction that he had leapt out of the safety of the shadows and was standing well within their sight.

"What's this, then?" The leader crouched somewhat, flipping a dagger out of a sheath on his left boot. He pointed the thing at Rey. "Is it really a stuffy, price-pressed, overrated noble boy?"

"Hehehe," squeaked a very, very small, wild-eyed thug. Rey had never even seen the tiny little man before now. The thug, creature, man -- whatever it was, leapt swiftly onto the leader's right arm and clung there quiet happily. 

If the leader noticed his sudden burden, he didn't show it. Instead, he was advancing carefully on the prince with long strides. He sniffed. "Ye smells like one. Ye looks like one. Ye must be one, ye blood-rotter."

Rey was not standing still. He backed away willingly, but found he could move no more when he bumped hands-first into a solid wall. Shaking, the prince fumbled with the hilt of his sword and drew the blade from its holder. The opposing thug was undaunted.

Rey trembled. Page three of Wyerzen's dueling handbook: never hold the blade perpendicular to-

The leader charged at him so suddenly that it stripped his mind bare to his instincts. The creature-man leapt off of his perch and away from the scene of the pending battle, but his buddy was not so ready to leave. Just as Rey's blade flew to protect his face from the slashing dagger, the thug ducked again and attacked his thigh. Rey stumbled to the side, bleeding from a shallow gash.

A groan of disappointment rose from the crowd of thieves. They had been expecting more of a show, but apparently the prince's clumsy movement were less than satisfactory.

"Aw, what'sa matter?" mocked their leader, laughing aloud. "Fancy sword lessons not cracked up to their promise?"

Rey was terrified. But he kept his head held high, reciting another rule from Wyerzen's handbook. Page eight: under all circumstances, over-confidence was a sign of fear. He had to attack! He had no better plan now, in any case. Rey grit his teeth and swept forward.

He cried out in pain. His sword dropped to the ground in a splatter of blood, rolling into a near mud puddle and staining it red. The prince fell to his knees and clutched his right arm to his chest. His hand, whereas it was no longer attached, still lay clutched to his discarded weapon.

The group of adversaries erupted with laughter. Their leader backed away and threw his thick arms into the air for approval. He too, laughed with as much scorn as they. Triumphantly, the squat man tossed aside his dagger. Whistling an innocent tune and tip-toeing towards his companions, he earned an even louder roar of applause and endorsement.

Rey was doubled over, feeling sick to his stomach. Everything around him was a mess, he was going to die, and there was no one around to help him. The pain was overwhelming. The smell of blood and the sound of Rascha's agonized groans were drenching him with waves of nausea that caused his stomach and chest to ache with the stump of his oozing wrist.

Now they were all chanting something. Rey knew, of course, what they were telling their leader to do without even listening to their words. He grew acquainted with sheer malevolence that night. Terror. Evil. 

"Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!"

Rey moaned in his half-conscious state. Overall, he kept up his thought, one question that nagged him through all pain, all fear. Where was Grabs? Where was Slick? Why weren't they helping him…?

Something moved towards Rascha's direction. Rolling his eyes to their very corners, Rey saw someone very small, and very affectionate to the bleeding giant dance in nervous circles about his friend. Had it not been for his ill state, the prince would have smiled through his tears. Creepers was here, not asleep at all, but succoring the dying man.

Did they not see him…? Or had they run away after all? Still more questions. Did they even care? Was it funny to him? Would they not step in? The prince felt as if he were already dead. When would it stop…

The sound of scuffling feet brought his eyes back to the space in front of him. The leader's boots filled that space, where he stood with his dagger once again in hand and poised thoughtfully. Like an echo, his voice found Rey's senses.

"Well, no man has no mercy. Let's make it quick, no? I'll be a generous man and slit yer throat then, Mr. Noble? Dyin's not so bad that way."

Rey sobbed. Damn them. Where were they?

"Ach, yer nothin' but a waste of time." The leader reached down for the prince's collar.

Like a dream, the unexpected and painful happened to him. Rey was lifted clear off of his feet, with something like a bar looped under his throat. The prince choked, unable to clutch his bleeding stump to himself any longer. Everything was a mess. Everything hurt.

"Here's the little sucker," growled a man behind him. So the bar was an arm. Most likely, his persecution was just another man on the leader's gang. Rey choked again, his eyes bulging and his own sweat streaking his brow.

The leader's voice boomed. "Who the hell are you?"

"No one important to you," came the starchy reply. The man tightened his grip around the prince's throat, whom continued to gasp as his air supply lessened.

At least he was feeling less of his wound…it was all beginning to fade away.

"What, ye plannin' to take us all on? Who are ye now anyway?" The leader crept forward a step peering into the stranger's shadowed face.

"I never said I'm here to rescue him." snapped the prince's captor. "I've been looking for this prick for a long time."

The leader looked doubtful, but he remained at a still distance. "Ye…ye look familiar. Ye part of Conner's gang?"

"Don't recognize one of your own?" replied the stranger.

Rey was the only one to notice the slight loosening of the stranger's arm. He tried to draw his breaths carefully, to prevent his air being caught in his lungs. The world tilted around him, but he had a faint reckoning that he was not moving at all…

It took a moment for the leader to respond. Once again, his creature-buddy was clinging to his right arm and staring at the occurimg events with round eyes. 

"I might've…might've…" The leader coughed. "Whadaya doin' here? This is my turf anyhow."

"Collecting what's mine," came the growled response. Rey felt the cool edge of a blade press into his exposed neck. He whimpered. "This boy is the son of a very wealthy merchant near Treno. I'd hate to see such good money spilled all over the streets."

Rey could have cried. Unless this stranger was mistaken, he could very well be rescued from this mess after all. He decided, more on instinct to survive, to play along with this charade.

"D-don't…" he gasped. Surprisingly, his captor did not try to block his airways again. This encouraged him. "P-please don't! You can k-kill me! Leave my f-father out of this!"

The man behind him grunted. Rey hoped that this was a sign of approval.

But the leader sneered. "A bounty hunter," he drawled distastefully. "Yeah, whatever. Take 'im to 'is little palace and earn yer money, man. I'm done wit' him anyhow." Then he paused, skeptically. "Fer Conner, yeah?"

Another pause, and then the stranger replied. "For Conner."

"Right then." The leader cleared his throat, and walked a pace or two to his left. Rey watched with a deepening sickness as the thug retrieved the bloody sword, complete with his severed hand, from the puddle. The leader tossed it towards the captive and captor, whom, on impulse caught it with his free hand. 

The leader laughed insanely. "Ye might be wantin' that back if he's gonna go home in one piece!"

The rest of his gang laughed too, but it was fake and offered very discreetly. Their leader returned to them in an unstylish manner, making a strange signal with his hands. The whole lot cast their last glares in prince's direction, and followed their leader into the darkness obediently. Their grudging attitude stuck in the air for a long time remaining, but they were finally gone.

Rey was slowly becoming aware of how cold he felt. He could feel how much blood he'd lost, covering his fine clothes and washing the street red. He became aware that his captor threw aside his sword, and his hand with it. He became aware that he was being carried, and he eventually began to hear the distorted voices. Everywhere.

His rescuer carried him back along the way he'd run before. Rey felt himself being placed on the ground. And through all this, he did nothing, and said nothing, making no noise but the occasional whimper of dire weakness. But when a searing, burning feeling tore through his arm he was immediately jolted into a temporary state of resistance. He struggled pathetically.

"Cut it out," ordered that same, deep voice from before. Rey was still unable to make out the stranger's face, but he hardly felt he cared. But he stopped moving, trembling with exhaustion all the more.

"Where's…where…" he muttered thickly. He shuddered again. "Huh…Grabs, and S-Slick…Ras…Ra…"

"Rey man, I'm here," said a familiar voice. It was disgruntled, a little more than usual. Rascha. Alive. Wounded, but obviously alive.

"Geez…" hissed Grabs, from somewhere else. He sounded as if he'd woken from a long sleep.

"Stupid." Slick spoke from yet another unseen place. 

They were all accounted for, even Creepers, who chirped a wordless confirmation of his presence near Rascha. All counted for, but with an uncounted extra whom was - not gently - wrapping his bleeding stump of a hand with a flexible cloth. Rey's surroundings were gradually becoming more focussed as the pain in his arm subsided somewhat. He continued to quiver, but the worst had already happened and was over.

"Who…?" he mumbled, blinking up at the stranger. Before he could get a clearer picture, the stranger pulled the cloth around his wrist even tighter and tied a quick knot. Rey gasped in silent, but absolute pain.

"Sorry," said the looming man, not at all apologetically. He stood up and left the prince's line of sight. 

Rey forced himself to sit up with part of his newfound strength. Although it felt as if his head weighed twice more than usual, he accomplished to keep himself perpendicular to the ground. He absorbed his current situation.

Rascha, adorned with potions and bandages of different varieties, sat across from him. Most of his lighter wounds and bruises had been taken care of by the medicines he'd been given, but his face remained a terrible scar. He looked tired, beaten, and more than not ashamed of himself. 

Grabs and Slick were standing in their usual way. Slick was, in fact, hovering above him like a shadow to the wall. Grabs stuck to his distance, rubbing his head for some oblivious reason. On any hand, it obviously hurt. Neither of them said anything, but the four-armed man slapped the prince sympathetically on the shoulder and sat down against the wall beside him.

Rey shook his head, grimacing as his wrist gave him a fresh wave of pain. It quickly subsided, but the dull ache was still there. At least, he thought, at least…

At least I'm always looking on the bright side, he thought bitterly. But his wound had stopped bleeding, after all, thanks to…

Rey snapped his head towards the man that had helped him. Finally, he was able to mildly appraise him without a mask of pain over his eyes. The stranger's back was turned, and in the dull blackness all that was detectable was his build, his clothes and hair. He had his arms crossed, almost as if he were impatient about something…whatever it may be.

The stranger was thickly built, and to the prince's vast amazement, even taller than the willowy Slick character. The most fashionable prospect of the man so far was his...unusual hairdo. There was no doubt - he'd met someone like this before, but with an even weirder - in Rey's opinion, wilder - style. But this particular stranger was bald, save for the gangly, henceforth large mohawk of red hair from brow to neck. Even at that moment, Rey could feel the prying glare of the man's eyes from a corner glance.

"Who…are you?" the prince asked loudly to the turned back. He tried to stand up, but fell back against the wall with a regretful thud. The prince cringed as his bandaged wrist complained about the maneuver. 

The stranger turned around, smirking. "You don't care who I am. You want to know why I saved your sorry ass."

Rey raised an eyebrow, but his feeling of confusion was fleeting. The look that man gave him - he'd met him before, a long time ago. And his sire, the 'tall, scary man by the courtroom door'. In any case, the stranger was right -- he didn't care. "Fine then, why did you save my sorry ass?"

The stranger snorted. "'Cause my boss still needs you. Plus I didn't think Jerms would like a public execution."

'Jerms' sneered. "My name's Grabs."

"Shut up, Jerms," said the stranger.

"Eh…" Rey sighed, feeling too weak to carry on. "Fair enough, now I'm interested as to who you are and why your boss needs me."

Slick laughed shortly, in a way that suggested an invisible defeat. "Ye wanna know who he is? Everyone knows who he is."

"Slick.," Grabs warned with an irritated tone.

"Everyone," said Slick.

"Now that's not very fair," said the stranger. He scratched the back of his neck in mock chagrin. Then he chuckled. "Such loyal friends to remember me so thoughtfully."

"Not like ye'd return the favor," Slick muttered, knowing very well that the stranger could hear him. Rey doubted seriously that he cared.

"Heh heh..." Grabs shook his head from where he was standing. "He's not the one you gotta be scared of. It's his old man that's got our ranks nailed."

Rey remembered having a similar conversation about the exact same problem earlier on in the morning. "So, tell me," he said. "Who is this man you keep mentioning? Surely it couldn't be Am-"

"Don't say it!" Slick snapped. "We're doomed, ye know that? We're all gonna get dumped."

"Well, could you at least answer my question?" the prince inquired.

"Yes, yes, it's him. Don't know why yer own father would go and tell 'is kid about something like that, but sheesh." Slick sighed. "That's who a lotta members want to take 'it' over."

"Over? From Baku?" Rey was sincerely surprised. 

"Yep." Grabs chuckled again. "Not that we don't like 'im, we just think he's gettin' too old. The poor man's gonna break his hip or somethin' some day and it'll all come apart."

"Amarant doesn't want the job," said the stranger, suddenly. He was not looking at them, but towards the deserted, now bloody square. "I'm supposed to deliver that fact to the head hancho himself."

"There, you've done it," Slick grumbled, mournfully. "I've been dreamin' of this."

Rey sighed. Why should it matter to him? He'd lost a hand! A whole hand! He was a cripple now, lopsided, ugly, not fit to be prince or king when the day came around. However...a thought struck him. Just how many ladies would want to be escorted by a one-handed man? Not very many, he doubted, and those who would probably disliked touching 'cripples' in any uncomfortable sense. This was great. Pathetic was, however, how he should be injured in such a way and be happy about it.

He'd not known he was grinning until Grabs was there, rapping him on the head with a fist. "Hey, hello, Mr. Prince! What the hell you smiling about?"

Slick stood straighter, as if he'd just realized that Rey had a stump for a hand. "One hand. Ye poor, poor soul." And he meant it.

"I don't suppose you could lend me one of yours," said the prince, gritting his teeth. He took Slick's offered palm and grin, then allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. The very movement caused his wrist to throb horribly, but he managed well enough.

"I think," said the prince, a little sullenly. "I'm about to share your problem, Slick."

"Hey, lay off the insults," said Slick, crossing both sets of arms. "I'm having a good night. Lemme alone."

"Which reminds me." Rey looked straight at Slick, though he didn't know why. "While I was bleeding to a near death, I could only help but wonder why you didn't come to help me."

Slick coughed. Then he chuckled, very dryly and half-embarrassed in his insightful way. The four-armed man flashed a half-smile, and then looked towards Grabs for support. His companion gave none. And thus, alone for an expected explanation, Slick pieced his words together with care.

"Well...you see..." he began, slowly. "We were above, on the roof. Don't get me wrong, ye know, but when we counted 'em, chances of us takin' 'em down looked bad. Even for a good pal like Ras, eh?"

Rascha nodded his head in understanding, though he did look a little hurt.

"Yeah.." Slick went on. "So when you went all out yellin' like that and makin' a scene, we decided ye were an idiot. Speaking of which, ye are. Only a bloody idiot does somethin' like that."

"Heh," grunted Grabs. "Only a lucky idiot lives to tell about it."

"Better said," Slick agreed. "Anyways, Grabs went and disappeared."

Three pairs of eyes were drawn secretively towards the silent stranger, whom gave a light shrug and stared back. 

"I like to live, let's say, so I didn't join in," Slick finished quickly. "Before ye go all noble o'war on me, I want to finish. I'd moved a hair before that weirdo went and cut ye up. Then this guy," he gestured towards the stranger, whom flashed a mischievous grin, "shows up with Grabs slung over his shoulder, knocked out colder than a dead fish."

"I owed him," said the stranger.

"That was an accident, ye flippin' moron." Grabs jabbed a finger in the stranger's direction.

"Moving on," growled Slick. "Ye can probably guess what happened after that. Arram went and rescued yer sorry behind while I dished up some smellin' salts for sleeping beauty."

"You're depressing me," said Grabs, thickly.

"I see." Rey spoke loudly to break up their feud. "So now I'm supposed to live the rest of my life with only a left hand to see to all my needs, not to mention explain to my mother why I left in the first place. It's really interesting, however, that I'm right-handed!"

Slick seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm. Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Don't ferget, Mr. Prince," said Grabs, with a shrug. "Rascha's had it pretty bad, too. Ye don't see him complainin' over a little flesh wound."

"Flesh wound!" squeaked Rey.

"He lost an eye!" said Slick, in absolute agreement to his companion. "Losin' a hand's one thing, but imagine bein' half-blind for the rest of yer life."

"Flesh wound!" Rey cried again. "I recall being the only one who tried to defend him out there! Not to mention the fact that Rascha doesn't have half-a-dozen women waiting for an escort in seven hours!"

"Rascha ain't that lucky," Slick retorted.

"I give up!" Rey tossed his one hand in the air, remembering only just in time to keep his other motionless.

"Huh." Grabs yawned. "There ain't much damage done. 'Sides having to hear the Boss duke it out on us for damaging his precious little prince."

Rey glared.

"That leaves us an hour to do whatever we want," said Slick. "Still want that tour, Mr. Prince?"

"Aha, I'm coming!" growled a sudden voice. Rey jumped, surprised by the sudden fierceness in the hulking figure that was Creepers. "Ye children seem to have problems with responsibility! Seems ye children need some adult accompaniment!"

"Responsibility!" Slick growled. "Yer a walkin', talkin' load of crap, you know that?"

"Well, at least I don't smell like one," said Creepers in his smooth, yet raspy voice. He said this as he passed the four-armed man by, only tilting his misshapen head slightly to eye him.

"Ye smartin' little runt-"

The stranger seized Slick by the back of his collar just before the man could lunge at the older thug. Although Rey would have thought it impossible before, Slick fell back into the sarcastic grasp of the sharp-eyed Arram, who slung an arm around his shoulders like an old friend.

"You need a vacation," he told the four-armed man. Slick sneered and tried to squirm free, but even with four hands at his aid he was unable to break away. Arram lifted on side of his mouth. "And all these years I thought you liked me."

"Yeah, as much as I can like a rotten-gutted, lip-stealin', girl-seducin', ass-kissin'-"

"Ah ah ah," Arram interrupted. He let the four-armed man go and gave him a shove towards Grabs. "You're forgetting 'life-saving' hero, if you don't mind."

"Well, so much for sharin' the credit." Grabs caught Slick by the shoulder and balanced him. The four-armed man brushed him off angrily.

"Dropping a rock on my head doesn't count as bravery," said Arram. "Just stupid."

"Ungrateful," the red-haired thug grumbled.

"I'm just curious," said Rey. He spoke loudly, grasping the concept that 'loud' was required to interrupt these pointless feuds. "If your father is Amarant, and...if I'm correct, he is supposed to take some job that Baku has, but he doesn't want to...why are you here, and he isn't?"

"Shit," grunted Arram with a smirk. "I almost forgot. He is."

  
  


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May ALL your worries go BAM BAM BAM BABOOBLAMBABAMBOO!!! BAMMM!!!!!

  
  


I'm tired. Forgive me. ^_^

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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